


Laundry

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 05:01:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10529463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: During a bath, Elrond asks why, and Lindir gives his answer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for loveyoustan’s “Elrond/Lindir established relationship Lindr is relaxing in the tub while Elrond bathes him. Elrond asks Lindir why he has such devotion and love for him. Lindirs explanation is very intimate and in depth, it shows Elrond that he has always payed attention to every detail of Elrond since coming to Rivendell. Lindir always saw Elrond had a certain look of loneliness he wanted 2 help” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/159129786190/first-i-want-to-say-thank-you-for-bringing-me-so). ...This is a long one for my vignette rules, so my fill strays a bit, oops. ^^;
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The sun is low beyond the balcony, casting a golden glow about the bathwater that reflects off Lindir’s creamy skin. Sprawled in Elrond’s lap, he makes a lovely picture, but he always does. He lies back against Elrond’s chest, his long hair drawn over Elrond’s shoulder, the slender line of his torso bare for Elrond to reach. His legs are lightly spread, bracketed within Elrond’s own, and his breath hitches as Elrond draws the cloth up one pale thigh. It rises from the water, though Elrond pushes it gently down again, and Lindir leans back, moaning low, “I must be the luckiest elf in all the world.”

“The whole world, hm?” Elrond asks, a smile touching his lips. Indeed, Lindir looks rapturous, though his treatment is hardly something special; Elrond’s just bathing his attractive body the way Lindir often does the other way around. 

Lindir still sighs, “Yes. Here, beyond the sea, _everywhere_.”

Though he knows otherwise, Elrond chuckles, “I do hope you do not think so because of me.”

“You know I do,” Lindir hums. Elrond draws the suds-slicked cloth over his hip and across his flat stomach. He squirms beneath it and twists in Elrond’s lap, nuzzling into Elrond’s cheek to kiss beneath his jaw. With the one dry hand that’s yet to breech water, Elrond draws Lindir back by his hair. Lindir settles again, cooing delightedly, “I have the most handsome, kind, exquisite lord... and one so good as to bathe _me_ , his humble servant...”

Elrond tsks, “Surely you know you are more than that by now.”

“Yes,” Lindir laughs, clear and crisp. “But I like to remind myself of my station to keep appreciative of what I have.”

Elrond can’t imagine Lindir ever leaving his humble mantle. It’s interesting to ponder, nonetheless; a Lindir raised up from servant to _prince_ , perhaps even to lord, ruling at Elrond’s side in equal splendor. Most likely, he would reject the post, though Elrond thinks him worthy of it. In truth, Elrond sometimes understands little of his lover’s choices, and after a long silence, he finds himself quietly asking, “Why do you hold such devotion for me, my lovely songbird? You are young and pretty and hardly so far from me as you think.” As if to emphasize, he drops his cloth from Lindir’s chest to between Lindir’s delicate thighs, and Lindir gasps and arches as Elrond traces the lean line of his cock. It takes him a moment to steady, his breath coming quicker and his cheeks heated for it. He’s at his most beautiful when he’s aroused.

He answers breathlessly, “It is not solely that I desire you so greatly, my lord, if that is what you think.” Elrond wouldn’t have thought that at all—he still finds it hard to believe that this fully Elven treasure could lust for him in all his half-mortal age. But Lindir shows it constantly, and he shuts his eyes now, clearly trying to concentrate. Elrond shows mercy by releasing his hardening cock, instead tracing idly up and down his sides.

“It is your heart,” Lindir murmurs, once he’s come down enough to breathe steady. There’s still a slight hitch in his voice, as there often is when he speaks of his love for Elrond—it shows particularly potent in his songs. “It is many things, my lord, but mostly that—how true you are, how kind, how wise. It is both your prowess in battle, the wholly arousing sight of you within your armour, the muscles you have earned without it, and the preference you show to never strike without necessity. It is the peace of your existence—the orderly, yet freeing way you run your home; it is such an artful balance, devised from your own hand. You inspire not just my songs, but all who meet you. You have long been my muse and my support. It is in the way you smile at your children, and the way you look at Estel as though he were your own. It is the care with which you will braid any child’s hair that asks you. When I first saw you do this, I did not understand how you could be so mighty and so fair, and yet you are all things. You are...” His voice breaks, trailing off, and Elrond glances at Lindir’s face to find his gaze lost in the distance. 

Elrond’s heart is swelling. It’s almost painful to hear Lindir’s ardour. He’s always taken compliments graciously, but none give them to him in such force. Lindir licks his lips, shuts his eyes, opens them again and murmurs, “It is the timber of your voice when you recite the lore of old. Your memory and your attention, your open mind and willingness to amend.” Again, he pauses, donning a sudden smile, and he almost laughs as he whispers, “It is in the way you smell, my lord, first thing in the morning, when we have run each other ragged and have only our raw bodies to lie next to and enjoy. The warmth beneath your skin, the surety. I never feel as safe as when I am in your arms. I never feel as _loved_. You are a Vala to me, and you make me feel a Maia. I am always proud of you, you know. Proud to bring guests into your home, proud to speak to them of you, to see the awe in their face when they meet you for the first time. I am constantly learning new things from you, and I am constantly finding new things in you to love. I have been in love with you since the first time I set foot within your walls and was greeted by a lord himself.” Lindir’s voice twists into song when he joyously adds, “And when I first played for you, and you told me I had a voice worthy of the stars, I felt such elation! I had never felt truly comfortable playing for anyone until then, but you said you would make a minstrel of me yet, and I no longer doubt you! I am better for meeting you. When we are apart, I long for you, and I still replay in my mind the first time that you kissed me, and I learned the meaning of true happiness. I have wanted for nothing since, save for you. I know in my heart that I will never want for any more. I am already blessed.”

He finishes with a deep sigh, the damage done. Elrond’s chest is aching. He knew he could expect a long list, but he hadn’t expected one so intimate. He imagines Lindir could still go on a while longer, and he has half a mind to cover Lindir’s mouth—he doesn’t think he could take any more.

He notes before Lindir can conjure more, “You seem to think I have no flaws.” Or at least, none to Lindir. Lindir’s quiet for a moment, and Elrond lifts the forgotten cloth to bring along his throat. Elrond can feel his pulse beating swiftly beneath it still, but Lindir’s love is his passion—sentiment at least as arousing for him as physicality. 

Then Lindir murmurs, “Forgive me, my lord, but you did seem... lonely... when I first arrived. And that did pain me so. I wished very much to ease it. ...I hope I have.”

“Is that the true reason?” Elrond asks, though he knows it’s nothing like that. He still teases, “You just wanted to ease the loneliness of a weary old man?”

Lindir laughs, “Did you not listen to the rest, my lord? I will tell you more, if you wish, for I could list things I love in you for hours on end. I assure you, all I’ve ever wanted is your happiness, but though I would have brought you a thousand other suitors if you wished it, it would have broken my heart to do so.”

Elrond drops his hand to Lindir’s breast, though Lindir’s chest is already thoroughly clean. For a moment, he just enjoys the beat of Lindir’s heart. Lindir bears it, then twists in Elrond’s lap again, and Elrond turns to meet him. They share a proper kiss, languid and sweet, but Elrond dips his tongue as deep into Lindir’s mouth as he can. Lindir makes the most erotic little noise for him, and the next thing he knows, Lindir is turning to straddle him properly, to grind their chests together and keep their kiss going. Elrond has to push him back to finally end it. 

The water is already cold, and for that sole reason, Elrond explains, “We had best get out now, or by the end of my long list of things I love in you, we will be stuck in a block of ice.”

Blushing brightly, Lindir nods and smiles. He rises gingerly from the bath, holding towels at the ready by the time that Elrond’s followed.


End file.
